


Vicarious

by cschoolgirl



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Angst, F/M, shipper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7466382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cschoolgirl/pseuds/cschoolgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan, Rogue, a honky tonk, and a promise gone wrong. Takes place after X1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my lovely beta RogueLotus for all her hard work and a great title. The blame for this fic rests on Hurtslikeyourmouth for her constant posting of Wolverine and Rogue pictures and my listening to Honky Tonk Man (I was hearing [this one,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ajQpTWE6WU) but Dwight Yoakam's [Honky Tonk Man](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4GHV1L7jMzg) would make for an excellent third part.)
> 
> * * *

By now a couple of whiskeys have been downed and he's nursing a beer. He's searching the crowd, looking for the right one. It's the same every time, only he's held out longer this time. Trying to convince himself he can control it.

I didn't understand at first, only saw that Logan would disappear for an evening. The pattern was always the same. There would be a need for us to work closely together or I'd help demonstrate a maneuver in his defense class, anything that brought us in close contact. Then he'd avoid me for several days until he went out for the night. Afterward, things between us would go back to being more or less normal.

This time thought was different. I took a nasty fall in combat training and something snapped. I only remembered being dizzy and on the verge of throwing up with Logan standing over me. Next thing I know, I woke up in the infirmary, the smell of leather and cigar smoke filling my nostrils; the taste of longing on my tongue.

Over the next couple of days, I put the pieces together. I prepared carefully. I needed to be at the bar. I needed my longing satisfied too.

My outfit was well chosen; close to what I would normally wear, but without all the layers. Denim jacket over a long sleeved top, flirty skirt with tights and my cowgirl boots. I always wore my hair down, or in a bun for training. Tonight I had Kitty help me do one of those fancy braids that are in fashion. I'm every bit the cowboy's dream. 

The fake I.D. that Jubilee procured for me, got me in the bar no problem. The bartender didn't even blink when I ordered. I perched myself on a barstool to sip my beer and wait.

The bar has filled up, overflowing with the crowd. I'm being bumped and elbowed, but I have enough confidence in my control to not worry about these quick touches. A familiar presence presses into my back, a gruff voice calling for a drink over my head. A shiver runs down my spine. The smell of the crowd and a dab of musky perfume mask my scent. 

Logan leans forward for his beer, his chest sliding against my shoulder. A come hither smile on his lips as he glances at me from the corner of his eye. Just as quickly he takes a second look and almost drops his beer. 

"What the fuck…" he trails off as recognition dawns on him.

I pour on all the Southern accent I can muster. "What's wrong, Sugar? Did you forget your manners?"

I can hear him curse under his breath, a growl rising in his chest. The only problem, it reverberates through me and I purr in response.

He takes off like a shot, the crowd parting ahead of him. I hurry to catch him before he disappears. Grabbing his sleeve, he slows. Though he's facing away, I can see the way he is gripping his beer and I'm surprised it hasn't shattered from the force.

Please, Logan, let me explain." I'm begging, pleading for him to stay, to give me a chance.

He looks over his shoulder at me; his eyes are hard and unreadable. I tremble with fear. He's never looked at me this way, the usual softness is gone. I've stepped over the line in the sand and there is no way things will ever be the same again.

Nodding, he changes direction and walks toward the back of the bar. The crowd is thinner here; he finds an empty booth and takes a seat. I slide in opposite him; he places his beer in front of him, an added barrier between us. 

I think of asking if he chose me for the evening before he knew it was me. But we both know he had. There's no need for idle chitchat, my mere presence tells him I know about his nights out. I've seen his memories of the women and the nooks and crannies they step into for sex.

"I want to be her tonight." My statement is blunt and raw out in the open. He almost flinches. Tonight I want to be the woman who stands in for me.

"No." He doesn't even consider it; he's reasoned it all through a thousand times before.

I turn away. I want this even more now than before. If our friendship is going to die, I want at least a token of what I wanted it to become.

"Why?"

"You're my student and too young." Longing has crept into his eyes and I can see what a toll this has taken on him. The small laugh lines around his eyes that I helped put there have started to fade. Smiles have been harder to come by as of late.

"Not too young to understand what you struggle with." I tap my head. "I'm eighteen and won't be your student in a couple of months."

Unmoved, he takes a drink of his beer. I didn't really expect those arguments to work; they were the false fronts we put up to keep from the real problem between us. Logan thought he was too: jaded, rough, violent, close to his animal nature; take your pick, to be any good for me.

"You think I'll find some nice guy and settle down." I know that's what he thinks is best for me. But that wasn't necessarily what would make me happiest. "It will make me bitter. I'll end up in places like this looking for a man that will give me what you won't."

He looked up at me sharply. It is a low blow, yet we both know it is a possibility. Nothing in our lives has ever turned out for the best, except that we have each other. 

"Rogue…" He doesn't say Marie because Rogue puts more distance between us as he prepares himself for what is ahead. He swallows hard like there is an impossibly large lump in his throat. "You don't know what you're asking for. It would be hard and fast, just like everyone else." 

I should be jumping for joy, he is caving. I will get what I came for, however, it has left a cold, nervous feeling in my gut. What if he is right? What if I can't handle Wolverine and his needs? I take a steadying breath. That is what I want to find out.

"Promise?" It's the only what I know to get him to follow through. He has never broken a promise to me. I'm also sure that it will hit too close to home for Logan. I'm hoping it won't be about some anonymous woman satisfying his urges, but he will see me for who I am and what we can be for each other.

"I need this more than I've needed anything from you before." 

He stares into his beer, jaw clenched. I shift uncomfortably; I hadn't realized until this moment what was really driving me. It's the same longing and desire that has been driving him, but up to this point, only one of us was getting them taken care of.

"Okay," he says flatly and drains his beer. "I promise." He isn't happy about this, but he will go through with it. I want to smile, but there's a ball of nervous anticipation sitting in the pit of my stomach holding me back.

"How do we go about this?" I ask. I scan his memories for frequently used back rooms and alleyways. Those aren't my preference, but that is the type of place I signed up for.

Standing up beside him, I slip my gloved hand into his. He pulls me through the crowd and out to the street. In silence, we walk down the way to his truck. For a second, I think he means to have sex on the front seat, but he gets behind the wheel and starts it.

Dutifully I click my seatbelt into place. A small smile works its way to the surface, remembering the last time we were in this position. It was a year ago, bit it feels like a lifetime. I was so naïve, to what waited for me. Though I do wish I could recapture the simplicity of my relationship with Logan.

Talking about naïve, I'm sure I'm the least interactive partner he's had. Unlatching my seatbelt, I scoot over to sit beside him. "Should I be doing something?" I ask, running my hand up his thigh.

"No, just a couple more blocks." His hands are gripping the steering wheel so tight all the color has drained from them.

I wait in the truck as Logan pays for the room. He exits the office and waits at the front of the truck for me. He's turning the key over in his hand and looks at me for the first time since he promised.

"It's not too late to change your mind. I'll take you back home and we'll forget this ever happened."

I smile at him. "Thanks, but you know neither of us is good at pretending." He flinches at my words, then stares at me for a moment. Finally, he nods and leads the way to the stairs and down the walkway to the room. The click of the door closing behind us is loud and I move to turn on the light.

"Don't," he says as he draws the curtains on the wall of windows.

In the low light, I can see a small round table with two chairs, a queen bed, and a low dresser with a TV on top. The whole thing is outdated, but I see no indications that this is an hourly rate motel. Logan tosses the key on the table and takes off his jacket.

I follow suit, but he stops me before I can get my jacket off. "Don't bother, we won't be here that long."

"Oh." I pull my jacket back on and watch him take several items from his jacket.

He puts a foil packet in the pocket of his flannel shirt and pulls on a pair of gloves. Turning toward me, he walks me back into the wall. My heart is beating wildly and I suck in a breath as he presses into me.

I will him to make eye contact, but he looks everywhere else. I had hoped he would look at me like he so often does, full of hope and longing. Apparently, I've already forgotten what this is supposed to be about.

He grabs my shoulders, pushing me flat against the wall. His lips are hard, tongue thrusting into my mouth before I can respond. I'm ready to protest, tell him to be careful of my mutation, but he breaks away. He moves to nipping at my jaw then trails his tongue down my neck.

All his touches are timed to the response of my skin. He never lingers anywhere long enough for my mutation to react. That's where the gloves come into play when holding my flesh for prolonged periods might be necessary. I steal a glance at him. His eyes are tightly shut; it is the other part of what he does to fantasize that these women are me. He doesn't need to do it now, but its part of the game.

I asked for this. I wanted to be that woman and trying to make this something softer won't satisfy either of us. Not that this coupling will, but I need to see this through to the end.

Logan's hands are busy. One is cupping my breast thumbing a nipple and the other is up my skirt. Even through two layers his fingers are magic on my clit. I hear him inhale my scent; he knows I'm ready from just these few touches.

Pausing he frees his cock and rolls on a condom. "Stay still," he commands me as he releases an inch of blade and cuts a slit in my tights.

Roughly he hoists me up, arranging my legs around his hips. I do my best to hold onto his shoulders as he slicks himself on my wet folds. His breath is heavy in my ear and I moan when he teases my opening with the head of his cock.

I want him so badly I can't stand it. If I'm honest with myself, I know I've wanted this since I first saw him in the cage.

His stubble rakes against the sensitive spot beneath my ear as he shifts my weight and thrusts into me. I try and fail to hide the shock of him entering me for the first time. His hands soften their grip and he curses under his breath. The moment stretches out too long.

"You promised," I whisper into his ear.

He growls at me, not liking to be reminded. Wrapping my braid around his fist, he pulls my head back and lightly bites my neck. His other hand tightens around me and he starts a slow testing rhythm. My discomfort has slackened and I relax, trying to move with him.

The pace quickens and he dips his head to suck at a breast through my shirt. Feeling secure in his grasp, I move my hands from his shoulders to explore his body. Without stopping, he firmly places my hands above my head and holds them there.

I lose what friction I had and huff in frustration. He doesn't care as he continues thrusting into me. This was what he meant. I really didn't know what I was asking for. I'm still as naïve as the day I climbed into his trailer.

In protest, I push my hips out from the wall. He grunts, sliding deeper. It's what I need. The tension begins building with each movement of his hips. My leg slips and the tension starts to spiral out of control when he loses his rhythm. I glimpse him biting the collar of my jean jacket as he comes. He slows, then stills and he lets me slide down the wall until I'm on my own two feet. 

I'm left leaning on the wall as he leaves to dispose of the condom. I stand there dumbfounded, body still tingling from the encounter. I know with my whole heart that if I don't push this further; don't make him change this around, something between us will be irreparably broken. And I will spend the rest of my days trolling bars, looking for that connection.

He walks back stripping off his gloves and stuffing them in his jacket. "You need to clean up before we go?"

"Is that it?" I ask. I'm left unsatisfied, though from his memories I know the women usually aren't. But then again he picks those with enough experience to take care of their own orgasm.

"Yes." He won't look at me and I can hear the strain in his voice.

"Can we…" Asking for seconds doesn't sound right.

Logan turns his back to me, putting on his jacket. He's finished with small talk. "I'll take you back to the mansion."

I close the distance between us and block his way to the door. "No." I stand firmly in his path. If I let him take me back now he'll be gone before daylight. 

Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, I pull out a condom and press it into his hand. He looks at me now and there is pain in his eyes. It matches the ache in my heart and I am determined to mend them both.

"I'm not finished, Logan."

"Please, Marie."

I have reduced him down to begging, not for me to join him, but to leave him alone. Maybe I need to rattle the cage of the Wolverine. Wake him up, because the man fucking me up against the wall just a few minutes ago was not him. Unless he was on a leash.

"Kiss me," I beg.

I place a hand on Logan's sideburn. His eyes are locked on mine and a bomb goes off in my stomach. An explosion that draws back in on itself; tightening and twisting my insides into a knot. Desire flickers in his eyes. 

It's almost as hard as before, but I force him to slow down, soften. The timing isn't as good and I get a small pull of the animal beneath the surface. Impatiently waiting his turn, clawing at the frayed edges of the man in control.

The animal wasn't wild and untamed, I realize, but just the part of Logan that was closer to nature, more in touch with the world around him. It's the part of the man society doesn't want to see unless they're betting on a sport or fighting for their lives. The part of us all that we like to deny. This feral part of Logan is what has always helped him survive. Finding the patterns in life and giving the man the edge in all circumstances.

The animal was the one who had figured out the timing of my mutation. Knows the warning signs and when to back off. The man is the one who knows the matters of the heart, the one who holds back the emotions.

Logan is staring at me, a flicker of hope in his eyes, yet the spark is dying and I want to add fuel to ignite it. I start to slip his jacket from his shoulders, but he stops me. He gives me a hard look, taking in the outfit that was meant to fool him and shakes his head. "I'll be in the truck."

This time, I let him leave, walk around me and out the door. I glare around at the little room. The room that saw the death of our relationship, whatever it had been and never would become. A tear slides down my cheek.

I let the door click shut behind me. I had gotten exactly what I asked for. There was no Wolverine that needed his cage rattled. Only Logan, the man who might have known what was best for me after all.


	2. Chapter 2

I've downed a couple whiskeys and I'm nursing my third beer. Marie's at the bar searching the crowd, looking for the right one. It's the same every damn time. I can see the need building up in her until she can't control it any longer. 

I understood from the first evening she disappeared. I know the pattern all to well and curse myself for having let her absorb it. The last time she needed healing and I couldn't resist touching her. She paid the ultimate price for my transgression. Now all my longings and urges belong to her.

Maybe if I'd stayed that night like she'd insisted, we wouldn't be in this mess. If I hadn't let my pride get in the way. Instead, I'd taken her back to the mansion and just as quickly lit out of there. I was intent on finding a bar and losing myself in a trail of alcohol and women.

My life hardly ever follows any plan, but I've always been able to count on whiskey and women to soothe my pain. They both failed me this time. Alcohol because of my healing factor and the women…well, it wasn't their fault. Their curves didn't feel right in my hands, they tasted all wrong and none of them had the scent I was searching for.

Funny thing is, that never bothered me before. So I picked up my sorry ass from what should have been a week-long bender and made my way back to the mansion. Thought I might be able to put this whole episode behind me. 

Problem was, I was expecting everything at the mansion to be the same. For the most part, it was, except where I needed it to be. First off there was no greeting from Marie. I can see now how I'd taken those for granted; somehow I thought that would always be the same no matter what. Didn't see her until class Monday afternoon. 

She had no smile for me and the hurt in her eyes was more than I could bear. If I thought our encounter hurt me, a man already jaded toward this world, I believe it might have crushed something in her.

Weeks went by and she avoided me. I took up watching her from a distance. Satisfying some need to be close even if I could never be who she had wanted me to be. I saw some small changes; sass became a way of life, a little more rebellion, and flirting. None of that worried me, those traits had all been there waiting just under the surface. But God help me, it made me want her even more.

Nothing raised alarm bells, until that first night. The night she slipped out after lights out. I tracked her back to that same bar and watched her study the crowd for likely candidates.

Marie had warned me of this possibility, but at the time, I didn't want to believe her. Thought if I acquiesced to her request she would realize it was a dead end.

Since then I have followed her to a string of fake western-themed bars and imitation honky tonks all over the city. I keep my distance, watching from the shadows and forgotten corners. The progression has been slow but steady. She has been testing her limits, working out the timing of her mutation and the stamina of potential partners.

It started with flirting and light touches and worked up to kissing and groping. She has become more serious each step of the way. Then men she chooses are becoming more dangerous too.

Tonight though is different. Tonight she is dolled up to be every cowboy's dream. I remember the outfit from our night and know she is ready for the final step. She's even brought us back to the same bar where this all started.

I feel the cold, hard reality settle in my gut. I don't want her to be that woman for anyone else. I don't want another man holding her up against the wall or wrapping her braid around his fist.

A wannabe cowboy is sidling up to Marie. He's rough, a brawler from the looks of him. A possessive hand is at the small of her back and it is obvious he is irritated that she has only sipped from the drink he bought her.

Leaning in he says something to her, she frowns and shakes her head. The man's expression turns dark and … I've let this go on far too long. Marie has changed her mind and the man isn't taking no for an answer. The man has her wrist in a crushing grip and she is pulling away, backing into me in the process. At first, she stiffens, but when I growl at the scene, she relaxes.

She doesn't turn, instead acknowledges my presence with a sweet-toned, "Hey, Sugar."

"What the fuck?" Mr. Wannabe asks in confusion.

"Looks like you forgot your manners," I answer. "Remove your hand from the lady or I will." I emphasize my point by releasing my claws where he can see them. 

Without hesitating, he drops Marie's wrist and steps back. The man opens his mouth to say something and I point my claws toward him and Marie steps out of my way. Eyeing us both suspiciously, he finally stomps away.

Taking her hand I weave our way out of the bar. Down the street, I practically throw her in the cab of my truck. By the time I get in and start it; she's seatbelted in, arms crossed over her chest, and staring straight ahead. The tension is unbearable and at the first stoplight I break the silence.

"I'll take you back to the mansion and -"

She cuts me off, "We'll forget this ever happened?" Marie laughs, an empty sort of laugh. "That worked so well for us last time."

Neither of us are good at pretending, that's what she told me last time. It turns out when it comes down to dealing with each other, she's right.

"We've got unfinished business, Logan." Her tone is softer, but she still won't look at me. "I think you know where we need to go."

Minutes later I'm walking out of the hotel office, key for the exact same room in hand. This time, she is leaning on the truck waiting for me. When we stop outside to unlock the door she gives me a wry grin, sensing the irony of the situation.

The curtains are already drawn and she doesn't let me take my jacket off before pressing herself into me. I turn around and her mouth crashes into mine, hard and demanding. She's pulled us back to the wall and is already unbuckling my belt.

I break away for a breath, taking in a lung full of her scent. It makes me lightheaded and hard at the same time. She bites her bottom lip as she frees my cock and strokes it. Taking a condom from my pocket she rolls it down my length.

Her hands are shaking and I can smell how wet she is. I want her badly, have as far back as I can remember. But not like this, not last time and not this time. I don't want her to be an anonymous woman up against the wall. I could put a stop to it, but it feels like fate keeps drawing us back to this. I'm afraid if I stop now, I will lose even this small part of her I do have.

Marie hitches a leg over my hip and rubs the head of my cock on her wet folds. I watch her; head back, small moans escaping her lips. Sinking into her warmth, I bite her exposed neck. Exhaling a shaky breath, she moves against me and I pull her other leg up so her thighs cradle my body.

Grunting, I slide deeper and start a lazy rhythm. I need to close my eyes or I'm done for, yet I can't take them from her. I pull her hair free of the braid and let it fall around her shoulders. A whisper of a smile passes her lips when I wrap her white strand around my finger. 

She is so damn beautiful in the throes of passion and I've been using cheap imitations to try and satisfy a need only she can. I can't leave her wanting this time, but her hands roaming my body and the way she's pushed her hips out from the wall are too much. I grit my teeth trying to hold out for her.

Taking her hands in mine I secure them above her head and grind into her. I distract myself my sucking at a breast through her shirt. She gasps and I can feel her beginning to tremble. I grind into her again. "Marie."

I'm vaguely aware of her biting the corner of her jacket collar as she convulses around me. I make a final thrust, burying myself deep inside her as I come. 

I know I should let her back down, but I don't want to leave her embrace. I want to stay here forever with my head resting on her shoulder, with my breath all ragged. 

"Promise me something?" I ask her.

She presses a kiss into my sideburn and I can feel her lips curve into a smile on my cheek. "Anything," she whispers.

"Promise me this won't be the end of us." 

Her eyes lock onto mine, searching for something. "I promise," she exhales, voice full of hope. Then she laughs softly, "Just don't make me kiss so many guys to get your attention again."

"I don't think that will ever be a problem," I chuckle. Kissing her again, I scoop her up in my arms and carry her to the bed. We have some lost time to make up for. 

It will be the early morning hours before we leave the hotel room for the drive back to the mansion. I've never had a clue what was truly best for Marie, but I now know what will make her … us the happiest.

~*~


End file.
